"I was like—bam! Bam! Bam!" Hawthorn got too into his own reenactment and twisted to demonstrate, making him wince at his broken ribs.

"Lay back down," Nori commanded as she pushed Hawthorn's shoulders flat against the cushioned bench.

They had repurposed the temple to deal with the wounded. Fifty people laid out on benches and cots and piles of blankets, their wounds ranging from bruises to infectious gashes to broken bones.

Hawthorn managed to have all three. The exact shape of the tariaksuq's claw could be seen in streaks of red that stretched from his shoulder to his elbow. The entire right side of his torso had turned a nasty shade of yellow and purple with little red holes where antlers had punctured his skin. His broken ribs hurt when he spoke, but he spoke anyway.

He had gotten off easy.

Fifty people laid in the temple. Thirty laid in the ground.

They had carried the corpses across the bridge and buried them in a new graveyard—the old one would not have had the space.

Hawthorn continued his story, trying to impress anyone who would listen. "And then I got hit—bam! But I stayed up just long enough to get one last hit in. And I made it count. You'll have to tell Shiso how I…"

While Hawthorn continued, Archie looked over at the next bench where Barley laid flat in silence. He had returned to the village an hour after the battle had ended. One of the Bhantla's Chefs said it was a miracle that he hadn't bled out.

They treated him with bandages and a paste made of smashed red chard stems. By the next afternoon, his color returned. The dozens of minor wounds on his arm had almost healed over completely, just the deep puncture left to ooze. Even the wide gash that wrapped around a third of his midsection had scabbed over.

"You doing okay?" Archie asked him.

Barley stared at the hole in the wood lattice near the ceiling. "I'm fine," he muttered.

Archie watched him a second longer, but Barley was too lost in thought to notice. None of Barley's family had gotten caught up in the battle, but he undoubtedly knew dozens of the less fortunate.

"…schkew!" Hawthorn nearly shouted as he clapped his hands together for effect. "I stabbed it right in the eye."

Blanche jumped, her face carrying all of the fear and tension of a firsthand witness as she listened to the story.

"How'd you escape?" she asked.

"Well…" Hawthorn sighed, losing the excitement of his story. "I barely remember, but…Archie hid me in a bush."

"You held them off long enough for everyone to get some defenses up. There's no shame in hiding after that," Blanche comforted. "Speaking of hiding…where's Sutton? Still in the storage closet?"

While others had achieved feats of bravery, Sutton had achieved a feat of cowardice—although he'd claim it to be a feat of stealth. He had watched the exorcism up until the moment it went bad. By the time the Glutton had shed his restraints, Sutton had retreated to the nearest closet.

"Take it easy on him," Hawthorn suggested. "There's not much he could have done. Not everyone is a fighter like me."

Out of habit, he beat his chest proudly—just once—and regretted it, groaning and cursing at himself in pain.

"Hmph," Blanche sighed as she flipped her bangs away from her face. "He coulda read them to sleep with one of his history books."

Archie paid no attention to the story. He looked around at the crying families and wounded villagers and patted Barley's shoulder. "You did good. You held them off for long enough. You saved people."

"I should have been able to hold them off longer…" Barley muttered as he turned his face away from Archie. "I should have done more."

Archie looked at the gash on Barley's stomach and frowned. If the tariaksuq had been just two inches closer, Barley would be dead. Two inches between life and death. And yet he still thought he had something left to give.

Many in the temple groaned in pain or wept in mourning, but one sob could be heard over the others. A man with half a foot cried and shook his head and muttered, "they should've killed me, they should've killed me, they should've killed me."

A woman rocked her crying baby as she told the man to stop, but he just kept repeating it. The words never changed, but his tone did. It wavered from weepy mourning to a desperate search for answers to an angry, resentful hiss as he slammed his wounded foot against the ground in repentance, covering the tiles with blood.

Archie chewed on his lip and took a heavy breath through his nose. A hundred people were crammed into the temple, but the Bhantla and her Chefs were nowhere to be seen. They hadn't done enough to defend the village, and now they didn't do enough to treat the wounded.

Archie stomped off to the temple's kitchen to find them.

The Bhantla's Chefs worked tirelessly over stoves and cutting boards and bowls, putting their talents to making meals and potions and anything else that didn't involve healing the wounded. The Bhantla herself paced behind them like a taskmaster deep in thought.

Archie's entrance broke her meditative state.

"What are you doing?!" he raged. "These people are hurt because of you!"

The Bhantla's assistant grabbed Archie's collar and pushed him against the wall. "Know your place," he hissed.

"You will release him," the Bhantla commanded. Her deep, sunken eyes flickered around the room, looking at everything and nothing.

The assistant's hand softened and Archie batted it away.

"We have stabilized those that needed stabilizing," the Bhantla stated. "Now we prepare ourselves for our next exorcism."

"What?" Archie stepped past the other Chefs, but kept his distance from the Bhantla. Something in his stomach turned as he stepped closer to her. Some alarm bell rang in the back of his head, an animalistic instinct to turn and run. "You're leaving already?"

"We will leave tonight. We will need more time in the next village." She turned to look at each of her Chefs, an act that seemed to take great effort. Everything seemed like it hurt her. Her head bobbled around uncontrollably as it turned. "We will need to be more prepared. We will need to not be caught off guard again."

"Tonight?! What about all of these people? They need you!"

The Bhantla's cracked lips peeled back from her teeth as she considered his words. Ragged breaths went in and out of her hanging mouth—despite the Bhantla's smooth, hairless features, Archie saw a tiredness.

"You will walk with me," she commanded.

The Bhantla led Archie out of the kitchen and through the temple. Nori saw Archie from across the room and stood up straight, perplexed and concerned. Archie saw the question in her face and shook his head. He didn't need backup on this one.

Archie thought the Bhantla would speak once they reached the courtyard. She did not.

He thought she would speak once they exited the main road. She did not.

He thought she would speak once they reached the bridge. She did not.

He had enough.

"Where are we going?"

The Bhantla did not respond. The only noise they shared was the echoing clop of their shoes against the wood of the bridge.

She led him around the road and up the mountain. They walked for several minutes until Archie was out of breath and the people of Jakha looked like specks of dirt rolling across a miniature town.

The Bhantla turned to Archie.

He flinched—not because she looked frightening but because she didn't.

She hadn't grown hair or eyebrows or anything like that. But her eyes seemed to have risen out of the depths of her face. Her lips closed naturally—even seemed to have a natural smile to them. Her movements were smooth. She seemed…at ease.

"There," she sighed with relief. The word came out as a breath, her pitch lower than normal. Even in that single syllable, Archie heard more emotion from her than ever before. A relief. Her expressions moved to match her words. Even without eyebrows, Archie could see the muscles below work, squishing this way and rising that way as she spoke. He felt a warmth in realizing that she was in fact a human.

"Now we can talk," she said. Her strange cadence was gone. She smiled. "Their voices are quieter here."

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Archie's warm feeling went away. He thought maybe he had made a mistake in leaving Nori behind. "Their…voices?"

The Bhantla's face lifted, invisible eyebrows raising. Her smile seemed unnatural. Forced. A puppeteer pulling a string at each corner of her lips. Archie wondered if anyone would find his body if the Bhantla decided that he wasn't worth her time anymore.

The Bhantla noticed his fear. She lifted a hand to her face, touching her lips.

"Sorry," she said as her mouth oscillated back and forth until finally arriving at a frown. "It is so rare that I get to be myself. I find it hard to remember the ways."

She put her palms beneath her chin and pushed up, stretching her neck as she groaned. Her hands slid up the sides of her face and caressed her bald skull.

"Our essence and our emotions are not two distinct things," she explained. "When the essence of thousands runs through me, so too do their emotions. But when faced with such a tidal wave of feeling, do you know how noticeable one man's anger is?"

The Bhantla looked at the village, her hands sliding back down to her side as she sighed. "I could step into the bonfire of his rage and not feel the tickle of a match on my feet. That distance stays with me. Even when I disconnect myself from their essence—from their voices—I cannot help but see a single person's emotions as anything other than…miniscule."

Archie did not take his eyes off the Bhantla, nor did he speak. Now that she finally spoke freely, he decided to just listen.

"I see the world at a distance. There is still a part of me that feels for these people. That wants to take care of them. But my mission is so much greater than that. I see the world at a distance and that allows me to see the truth of what is important."

"And what's that?" Archie asked with skepticism.

"The fight against the wendigo, of course. It seeks to stamp out Ambrosia's flame from this world. If it succeeds, we will all perish in the ash."

Archie scowled. "So you focused on defeating the wendigo—you took your Chefs' essences—and let the tariaksuq kill tens of people." The Bhantla started to answer, but Archie wasn't done. His spirit raged against the perceived injustice. He vowed that no matter how distant the Bhantla was, she would feel his flame.

"Because you know what's important," he spat. "You let them die. You move on. Is this how it always happens? You come and go and leave behind a wake of grief? Don't you feel guilt?"

The Bhantla looked Archie in the eyes. He searched for remorse and maybe, just maybe, he found some.

"I lost," she stated. "For a moment. I did not want to incapacitate my Chefs. The wendigo took down my defenses. My essence was exposed to it. In an act of desperation, I threw forward the essence that had been made available to me by my Chefs."

With each passing second, the Bhantla seemed more human. More vulnerable. Archie saw something else in her eyes. Uncertainty? "Has that ever happened before?" he asked.

"I've failed before, yes. More frequently lately." The Bhantla looked off to the horizon. She claimed to feel little, but she felt enough to be too ashamed to look at Archie. "The wendigo has grown stronger. Every possession is another foothold for it in this world. And more are possessed than ever."

Archie had contributed to that number. He shuddered at the thought of Mr. Ackers's transformation.

"Ambrosia's essence is fading from this world," the Bhatla said wistfully. "In its place, the creatures of old return. Licertes run in packs in The Platter. Shellhounds have been spotted in Palm Coast. The uktena terrorizes Kuutsu Nuna's swamps while rocs run rampant in their plains. Strix keep Labruscan villagers in their homes at night."

"And tariaksuq roam the forests in Khala," Archie added.

"Hm," the Bhantla chuckled. "The tariaksuq never left. Of all the kingdoms, Khala has always had the least essence. When Tamani was sent by Ambrosia to Khala, she did not expel her mother's essence freely as the other children did. As the eldest, she had the hardest time accepting the loss of her mother. She held onto her essence as much as she could. And because of that, Khala has always had to contend with the creatures of old."

Archie shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Then why did she give her mother's ashes to the yetis?"

"She didn't. She gave her body. That was the deal they made. They would guard the north and she would be buried in their mountains."

"Guard?"

The Bhantla chuckled again. "We refer to it as yeti country because they are its stewards, not because they are the only creatures in those mountains. Many things beyond imagination call that land home. Call it hunting grounds."

Archie's heart sank. The tariaksuq had been all the terror he could stomach. He had dealt with two ancient creatures already. The next nightmare could kill him. But he had to face it. He had to press on. They could have gone to Jakha anytime. They chose to go when they did because he needed to speak to the Bhantla. He needed to get the acorn.

"I need to find their grove."

The Bhantla breathed through her nose, half sighing and half smelling.

"I can hardly hear the village from here, but I can hear you," she said. "I can feel you. Your fear."

Archie's eyes glistened as his resolve wavered. For so long, when he thought of their expedition and called it dangerous, he did so with a sort of excitement. An epic journey. A chance to prove himself. But now that he understood the meaning of the word dangerous, he wanted to go back to the Academy. He wanted his friends to be safe. The status quo wasn't so bad. He sniffed and blinked forcefully to try to keep his emotions from spilling out.

"I could still see, you know," the Bhantla said. "During the exorcism. I could see you. My assistant had most of his essence sapped away when I lost control. It is unclear if he would have been able to handle himself if you had not intervened."

Pride wasn't enough to override Archie's anguish.

The Bhantla sat on the ground, her palms in the dirt, and closed her eyes. "I will help you."

The sentence struck Archie like a spell, melting away his anxieties.

"Brace yourself," she said. "Fortify yourself with essence."

Archie rushed to do so, spreading his essence evenly across his body. He imagined it hardening—sugarskin without the actual effect.

The air started tightening. The birds stopped chirping. The breeze diverted, finding a new path through the mountains and leaving them in a pocket of stale air. An invisible force grew, squeezing Archie. Then the force rushed out all at once like a shockwave.

The Bhantla pointed northeast.

"The grove you are looking for is that way. I can feel the essence. It is within a week's travel, but you will not find it without the help of the yetis."

Archie was stunned.

"I'll mark it on a map for you," she said. She opened her eyes and rose to her feet. "The yetis will have felt my essence. They will know that you travel with my blessing."

"Thank—"

"But that does not guarantee your safety. Take the antlers of the tariaksuq with you. The bone is made of their sacred bark. The yetis will seek you out to return it to their grove. Now, I must get back. I'll answer any questions you have while we walk."

Without waiting for Archie's response, the Bhantla started back down the path.

"Wait, the bones are made of the bark?"

"The tariaksuq are shadow creatures that have stolen it away and used it to achieve a physical form."

"Then…can I just use the antlers? Plant them in soil or something?"

"The tariaksuq are ancient beings, not bound from the rules of essence. You will not be able to manipulate the sacred bark without the blessing of the yetis."

"Okay. So the yetis will definitely trade for this?"

The Bhantla frowned. "They will definitely be interested in it. If you come across the right yeti, then yes, they will trade. But I've seen what you seek. They will not give you everything you desire."

Archie looked down at his feet. His fears had been confirmed, and the choice weighed heavily on his mind. With every passing hour, his mind had shifted from option to option. But now was not the time for consideration. He heard the sound of the river. He would not have the Bhantla in this state much longer, and he had bigger questions to ask.

"If you are this detached…If the emotions of one are so small, why don't you just kill the Gluttons without an exorcism?"

The question tickled the Bhantla. Her laugh made her seem to approve of the question.

"When you kill a Glutton, you cut off the little toe of the wendigo. It does not mind. But when you exorcise the Glutton…when the wendigo exposes itself as it wrestles for control…you can deal a much more substantive blow. Each successful exorcism does more than save the one Glutton. It weakens the wendigo."

"You said…the wendigo wants to stamp out Ambrosia's flame?"

"They have been at war for a thousand years. Ambrosia has held the wendigo off, but it is gaining ground."

"What can we do about it?"

"I've told you. The exorcisms."

"What can I do about it?"

The Bhantla stopped and turned, assessing Archie. "I believe you are on the right track. But people can change. Even Ambrosia's chosen."

The Bhantla resumed walking, leaving Archie to consider the answer for a moment before scrambling to catch up. "And why did you come out here to talk to me?"

"It is as I told you," the Bhantla stated, her voice stripped of emotions. With each step toward the village, her humanity faded. "I wished to speak to you without the cacophony of shared essence."

"No, not…why was I worth doing that for?"

"I wished to know if you could handle the truth."

"Why?"

"You are a paradox. Brave, but timid. Determined, but unfocused. Strong, but vulnerable. Serious, but soft. A paradox is a human's natural state, but as humans, we seek to purge ourselves of our contradictions. To make ourselves all of one way. An absolute. You have shown an affinity to the wendigo. I wished to isolate you so I could be sure the truth wouldn't push you to an unfavorable absolute."

"And what is the truth?"

Their feet clopped, clopped, clopped on the wooden bridge.

"The wendigo's call came from the Glutton. It reached you. You amplified it."

"I don't understand…"

"You saw the herd of elk many days before you arrived. Unconsciously, you served as a beacon for them to follow."

"I…"

As the Bhantla turned up the road, she faced Archie for just a moment. Her sunken eyes flickered aimlessly as her lips peeled back.

"You brought them to this village," she stated. "It has benefited you greatly. You will have something to trade with the yetis. But you should not feel guilty. The villagers cry, but from afar, even the flooding river looks like a raindrop rolling down a window."

Archie stopped.

The Bhantla did not.

She walked without him, leaving without a goodbye.

As the distance between them grew, Archie realized how much the pressure of her essence had suffocated him. Without it, the world started to come back to him. The heat of the noon sun. The cool refreshment of the breeze. The hoofprints in the mud. The mourning of the villagers.

He looked up the road at the temple, finding himself unable to step toward it.

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